“That’s exactly why this is so genius,” he said. “Don’t you see?”
“I see that your mom is going to be furious,” I said.
“No, no, no. Wait a second,” Ford said, excitement lighting his eyes. He always got like this when he was coming up with schemes. “Dude, it’s the perfect plan.”
I would bet my life on it that he’d never called Claudia, “dude.” She probably would have slapped him if he tried.
“What is?” I asked, knowing full well that I was already halfway to saying yes.
“You can justpretendtoactuallybe my girlfriend for a little while. Think about it! It’ll be completely believable, and rebounds never last anyway—it’ll just be a few weeks so I can get a break from all my mom’s nagging.”
“Your rebound,” I echoed hollowly.
Ford slid closer to me, clasping his hands in mock prayer. “Please, Emzee. I’m begging you. I need a breather! You don’t know how bad it’s been.”
“I mean, I have an idea…” I told him.
He shook his head. “Before the breakup she was trying to give me my great-grandmother’s engagement ring to propose to Claudia with. She’d even picked out baby names for her future grandchildren! Farrah Edith and Bentley Sedgwick.”
“Sounds awful,” I said dryly.
“It really is.” Ford scrubbed his face, a desperate air coming over him. “Look, I just need to convince her that the Claudia ship has definitely sailed.”
“I think it’s a bad idea.” And I wasn’t much for lies. Just look how they’d destroyed my family, the fabric of untruths my father had woven around us. My brothers and I were still repairing the damage he had done. I knew exactly how toxic lying could be.
Ford went on as if I hadn’t even spoken. “You and I can go back to dating other people in a few weeks. A month or two, tops. Say yes.”
Dammit. The second he’d said, “dating other people,” it had set off a chain reaction in my head—and my stupid, naïve heart.
It wasn’t like I thought the breakup with Claudia meant that he was suddenly seeing me in a new light…but at the same time, I really didn’t like the idea of him swiping right on other girls, and maybe finding that new light in a stranger instead. Because it was obvious Ford was shooting for a rebound either way. It could be me, or it could be some rando.
I looked out the window of the car. The streets were quiet, the brownstones looking cozy with golden light glowing from inside, Chicago’s iconic skyline silhouetted in the distance. The whole world seemed kind of magical. Like it was just me and Ford, flying through the city.
“I need you, Em,” he whispered.
My heart skipped a beat. Dammit. Reluctantly, I said, “I’ll think about it. Just give me a few days.”
“Yes!” Ford crowed.
As if I had ever told him no before.
As if this time would be any different.
Deep down, I knew I’d already made my decision.
“A month?” I repeated.
Nodding, he said, “Two max. You’ll be back on the market in no time, I promise.”
“Well that’s a relief,” I said sarcastically.
The car pulled to a stop outside my building. As the driver got out to come around and open the door, Ford pulled me into a tight hug.
“You’re the best,” he said, his breath warm against my hair. “I’ll call you.”
A part of me wondered if he was still drunk—if this whole thing was just a whim or some impulse he’d forget all about by tomorrow morning. Only time would tell.
Stepping into my loft, I realized I still had Ford’s jacket over my shoulders. So I did what I’d wanted to do in the car, pulling it closer and taking a deep breath. It smelled like him, of course, a woodsy vetiver scent, mixed with a faint hint of the bourbon he’d been drinking.
